


Scar Tissue

by Nickelwit



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Dark, Drama, F/F, Love/Hate, Post War, Post-War, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: Eternity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-12
Updated: 2008-06-12
Packaged: 2018-10-27 17:48:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10813797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nickelwit/pseuds/Nickelwit
Summary: “No, I never betrayed Neville’s little army. What I did was worse. I betrayed her.”A Slytherin that survived the war by playing both sides, choosing none, places her fate in the hands of the one person she should have stood with.





	Scar Tissue

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> The name “Tracey Davis" comes from the draft of the class list of Harry's year displayed during the "Harry Potter and Me" TV interview. The chart indicates that she is a Half-blood witch.

  
Author's notes:

This story was first posted to the LJ community: hp_girlslash 5/19/08. 

* * *

Tracey allowed herself a smirk of grim amusement. She must have been a sight to Parvati Patil under the full moon’s light. Her once prized Slytherin robes were a tattered mess. A ragged tear marked where the proud seal once sat. Frayed threads and torn stitches were all that remained of the distinctive green trim. Her bloodshot eyes were rimmed with the dark rings of tormented nights.  
  
“Draw your wand,” Parvati growled sliding hers from the pocket of her jeans.  
  
“I stopped carrying one. Ever since…”  
  
“Since you bastards cut and run,” the Indian girl snapped, jabbing the tip of her wand into Tracey’s chest. “None in our year. Not one of you stayed behind on our side. Though I’m sure you know what happened to Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.” Tracey said nothing to contradict her. 

 

“I could kill you,” the Gryffindor snarled. Tracey could almost imagine the green flash of Avada Kedavra. It took true desire to cast the curse successfully. She had no reason to doubt either Patil’s words or the intent behind them; she was Lavender’s best friend and confidant after all.  
  
“That would be a mercy I don’t deserve,” she said focusing her gaze on the threshold of the open front door. “I came to see her.” 

Parvati’s hand snagged her wrist with lightning-like speed, pulling her inside. Tracey suddenly felt herself being wind-milled around. The back of her head impacted the interior wall moments before the door slammed shut. She wavered on her feet a moment before falling to one knee. Through the stars that had clouded her vision, she saw a blurry Padma charging out of the kitchen, wand in hand.  
  
“Vati! What’s going on?!” the twin cried. Her posture was ready for any attack; her eyes darted for dangers that did not exist. Parvati gestured towards the stunned girl with a shrug.  
  
“Davis is here to see, Lavender. I invited her in. She's rather clumsy.” Padma glared daggers at her sister seeing through the weak facade. Parvati simply crossed her arms in defiance.  
  
“If she’s a guest, you should treat her like one.” She stowed her wand up her robe's sleeve and helped the girl to her feet. “I don’t care how much you despise her,” she said over her shoulder.  
  
“Fine, you deal with her. I’ll finish dinner.” Parvati said pushing past the both of them towards the kitchen.  
  
“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. She hasn’t been the same since Hogwarts.”  
  
“Don’t apologize.” Tracey interrupted. Her voice was weary. “We all haven't. War does that.” The glimpses of a bitter smile reached her lips. “Makes heroes out of people like you two and the others… shines the truth on the cowards and betrayers.”  
  
“No,” Padma protested, “Don’t you dare say that. You never betrayed us. You risked it all helping the DA, redirecting patrols, tipping us off about raids and ambushes. We all did things we regret; we all did what was needed to survive.”  
  
Tracey squeezed her eyes shut trying to drive back the memory of that school year. The uncertainty. The atmosphere growing thick with terror with every passing day. The nebulous ever-escalating guerrilla war that the students had waged upon one another.

 

“No, I never betrayed Neville’s little army. What I did was worse. I betrayed her.” Her eyes drifted to the staircase that led to the upper floor of the modest house. Her voice wavered trying to stay composed. 

 

“I was just going to fade away you know. Disappear somewhere. Maybe even snap my wand and become a Muggle, but then I got an owl from Professor Trelawney. She said Lav would be here. That she prefers to spend the full moon here among friends rather than family. There wouldn’t be any other place she’d want to be; anywhere else there would just be pity or fear.” 

  
Padma allowed herself a small smile hearing the pet name slip from Tracey. “It’s subtle. You can’t really tell, but there are these moments when you can sense something almost…animal.” She mentally shook herself off the line of troubled thoughts. “She’s still herself. It’s like you said, we’ve all changed in one way or another.”  
  
Parvati stomped back into the foyer with three plates of china and silverware floating in front of her. Upon one was a steak bloody and rare. She roughly shoved it into Tracey’s hands. “Your entrance probably woke her up from her nap. She'll be hungry, and she’s the only reason I don’t throw you out. But one word from her…” The threat was obvious in her voice.  
  
Tracey could only reply with a solemn nod and an apprehensive glance upwards before ascending the staircase.  
  
“Why are you good to her?” Parvati eyes tracked the unwelcome guest’s movements. Padma let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed her temples wearily.  
  
“Isn’t there already too much hate in this world without you having to keep adding to it?” The second plate was claimed, and Parvati watched in silence as her twin walked away briskly.  
  
“I…I wish I could just let it go.” Her fists clenched as tears welled in her eyes.  
  
* * *  
  
Tracey stopped before the guest room door; she had heard it described often in stories of holiday sleepovers and birthday parties. “Come in,” a muffled voice called out before she could even knock. Taking a calming breath, she entered. The moonlight from the open widow and small candelabra illuminated the room’s pleasant but simple furnishings. A vase of delicate red roses sat carelessly on the nightstand. Whatever words she had in mind died when her eyes fell upon beauty.  
  
Lavender’s back was turned to her. Garbed in blue pyjama bottoms and a loose fitting tank top, her eyes were focused out into the night sky. Tracey’s eyes traced paths across the neck that her hands and lips had once travelled. Peeking from beneath the top were the white lines of scars crisscrossing like a spider’s web. She would forever be grateful that Granger had saved Lavender from death at the jaws of Grayback but even that was too late. The werewolf had mauled her thoroughly before attempting to devour her completely.  
  
“I have dinner,” Tracey said dumbly. The Gryffindor turned. Her head cocked slightly to one side, studying her. Her eyes seemed to glow with a yellow sheen for the briefest of instants in the candle-light. Lavender took a step closer. Tracey felt herself freeze under the penetrating gaze. Her heart pounded in her ears. Another step, and they were inches from one another. The other girl leaned close as if examining every inch and pore. Her nostrils flared taking in the scent. Tracey licked her suddenly dry lips. Lavender stepped back breaking the moment and took the plate over to the bed. The Slytherin girl let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding.  
  
The steak was methodically sliced and consumed, but not before the last morsel sponged up every remaining drop of blood upon the plate. The tongue that licked stained lips clean sent a memory shivering down Tracey’s spine.  
  
“What is it like?” she finally asked.  
  
“Scary. Exhilarating. Powerful. Like there’s a whole other world that’s opened just for me to explore…and utterly terrifying all at once.” Lavender replied leaning back on her haunches. “Kind of like how it was with you...especially the part where I hate myself in the morning for what I’ve become,” she said with an almost casual cruelty. She saw the pain ripple across Tracey’s face. 

 

“I stopped hating you weeks ago. I had a lot of time to think laying in that bed at St. Mungo’s.” She waited patiently for some sign, some excuse, some weakness, anything at all. “My fault really. I was naive to think that it was anything more than the hormones, fear, and loneliness.”  
  
Through the rising tears, Tracey couldn’t see the predatory smile. Lavender continued, “It’s not like you really cared about the DA either. You helped us just enough so we couldn’t abandon you if they decided your 'better half' wasn’t good enough. We fed you enough false-victories to keep you above suspicion. You would’ve made Salazar proud out-slithering the Slytherins. I should have known better. You practically even said as much to me. What was it again? What was it you said to me when I begged you to stop? To just hide like all the others in the Room of Requirements?”  
  
“Please don’t,” Tracey whispered.  
  
“Say it.” The demand came through bared teeth.  
  
The Slytherin cursed herself reciting the words from that night. “Lav, luv…I can’t. From the moment I was sorted, I’ve lived in a nest of vipers. I have to see this through to the end.”  
  
“I convinced myself you were being noble, some bravado to make me feel better about the risks you were taking,” Lavender said with an acidic laugh. “But no, disappearing into hiding would’ve meant you’d chosen sides. And, they would’ve known you really were a blood-traitor.”  
  
Tracey buried her face in her hands unable to stand the onslaught. 

 

“So no, I can’t hate you Trace. You were just being true to who you are. I just missed the signs that’s all,” Lavender said matter-of-factly. 

 

“Well?” she prodded. “That is exactly what it was, wasn’t it?”  
  
“Yes,” Tracey croaked. “Maybe,” she said a little louder. “Everything was so crazy. The spying, the lies, everything was so turned about and twisted in my head, I don’t know anymore. I don’t know if I wanted to be a good witch or if I wanted to be dark. I just wanted to live through it…and you…I just wanted to be with you. All I know for sure is that I love you.”  
  
“Love?!” Lavender breathed incredulously. She rose from the bed, crossing the small distance. Tracey felt the hairs stand on the back of her neck feeling the anger emanating from her. She found herself stepping away until she found herself pressed into the corner of the room. Lavender stopped an arm's length away. The cold cruelty had been replaced by barely contained fury. 

 

“If you truly loved me, you would have chosen me! Gryffindor-Slytherin be damned! You would’ve thought I was worth fighting for!” Her anger subsided for but a moment remembering the briefest fantasy of them all, “You would have fought with me side-by-side…Instead you acted on instinct and joined the rest of the cowards!”  
  
“I tried. Dear gods I tried in the escape tunnel.” Tracey shuddered. She remembered the half dozen hands pulling and clawing at her. Her throat had screamed itself raw trying to force them to release her. No one heeded her hysterical screams. They had resorted to Stunning to subdue her. “But, I’m back now. Back for you.”  
  
“Why should I believe anything you say? You spent your whole life lying and plotting. Even if you convinced yourself that you love me, I know you’ll just fold when it really matters.” She watched as Tracey drew from her robes a letter that was folded with care. Her hands trembled as she held it out.  
  
Lavender tore the letter from her grip. She was moments from crumpling it in her hands and tossing it aside when she caught a glimpse of the familiar elegant script. She unfolded it to find the words of her beloved teacher.  
  
_On a hot summer night, when the next moon shines full, you will meet your fate in the jaws of the wolf with the red roses._ __  
_\- S. Trewlaney._  
  
“It…it could mean anything,” Lavender stammered, feeling something terrifying stir within her.  
  
”It’s my prophecy. It means whatever the hell I want it to. There’s no more war. No life and death struggles. No shining moment to choose except for the one I make myself.” Tracey reached out and pressed her palm against the letter. Her eyes closed, feeling an odd sense of calm. The paper dissolved reforming into floating swirling words and transforming into a simple question. The werewolf-stricken girl recoiled back as the full weight of the request fell upon her. The magical print faded into the darkness.  
  
“You have no idea what you are asking for. You wouldn’t understand,” Lavender said desperately struggling with herself. She could feel that the moon had now risen fully in the sky. Instincts alien to her body cried out for a transformation that would never come. Her senses were on the verge of being overwhelmed. The sights and scents flowed over and around her. She bit her lip; the flash of pain sharpened her focus almost immediately. The beast within had been wrestled away, but she could still feel her control hanging on a razor's edge.  
  
With methodical grace Tracey let her robe slip from her shoulders. The fallen clothing coiled in a shapeless mass beneath her. She tilted her head to one side. Her right hand moved, pulling down the collar of her shirt. Her head leaned back offering the expanse of flesh. Lavender's heart raced.  
  
“Take my throat,” Tracey breathed. “Kill me or make me yours; it’s all the same.”  
  
She had no time to scream or gasp as strong arms knocked her down and pinned her to the floor. There was no pain when the jaws clenched upon her; her world centred upon the sudden warmth flowing down her neck and spreading beneath her. Distantly, her mind registered the door opening and a sudden panicked scream. 

  
* * *

  
She could feel eyes upon them as they strolled lazily through Diagon Alley. They would shift from her lover to the jagged scar. They would say it was an ugly thing; few could ever understand its true beauty.  
  
“You can wear my scarf,” Lavender whispered, her voice filled with concern. Tracey reached down and laced her fingers into her mate’s, giving them a gentle squeeze.  
  
“Let them stare. I want them to know where I stand."

* * *


End file.
